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 "What of it? Can't expect the sun to shine all the time, can you?"

"N-no, I suppose not," answered Miles.

Bistre, having turned around eight times on Miles's stomach, finally prepared for more slumber.

"I suppose, by the way," said Hunter, presently, "you'll be leaving me in a day or two?"

"Leaving you?" echoed Miles, questioningly.

"Yes, going back."

"Back? Back where?"

"Back to the city; going away from here."

"Away from here?" murmured Miles, dreamily. "Do you mean away from Maple Green?"

"Of course! What do you suppose I've been talking about for five minutes?"